


Somebody I Used To Know

by JustYourAverageFanboy



Series: Somebody That I Used To Know [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael has a YouTube channel, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Youtuber AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustYourAverageFanboy/pseuds/JustYourAverageFanboy
Summary: Jeremy and Michael haven't spoken to each other since junior year. One day while moving into a new apartment, Jeremy stumbles upon a certain YouTube channel with a familiar face. The past comes back to kick Jeremy's ass after he impulsively sends a messageInspired by ncnsstncy ii's animatic -----> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SSJmLpElaI(THIS IS ALSO ON WATTPAD! DON'T REPORT, I'M NOT STEALING)





	1. Somebody That I Used To Know

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Jeremy brought the last box into the apartment. He set it on top of the small stack by the door. Christine was helping Rich set up the TV while Chloe was helping Brooke move her boxes into one of the two bedrooms. Jake was bringing up the last chair from the moving truck. It wasn't a large one, so he had been able to do it himself.

Rich saw Jake and ran over to him, seeing how his legs began to wobble.

"Rich!" Christine yelled as she struggled to hold the TV that he let go of. Rich gave a sheepish smile and apologized. Jeremy maneuvered passed Rich and Jake and walked over to Christine. He helped her set the TV against the wall.

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at Jeremy. She stood up. "I get that Jake was having trouble, but I almost died."

"We can't have that, can we?" Jeremy said. He cringed. That was a stupid line. He was nearly 25 and he still couldn't really talk to girls. Not that he still had a crush on Christine, he just couldn't talk to girls in general. "I'll help set up the TV if you want."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "I appreciate it, but Rich knows that stuff better than you."

Jeremy sighed. "Yeah, but if we're putting it up that high," he pointed to the TV mount, "we'll need someone taller."

Christine let out a loud laugh. "Jeremy," she sputtered out between breaths, "he's not that short."

"Yeah, tall-ass!" Rich exclaimed from where he was on the couch. Christine's laugh quieted down until it was just small bursts of air from her nose.

"Weren't you helping Jake with the chair?" Jeremy asked, looking over his shoulder at the short boy.

"His legs are hurting, we're taking a break."

"I wasn't aware that your legs were injured," Chloe said, stepping out of the bedroom with Brooke trailing behind. "You're strong enough to move it."

Rich grumbled words under his breath and stood up.

Jake patted Rich on the shoulder. "You'll live, bro."

Chloe looked at her phone. "Jake, we gotta go if we want to beat the truck to our house."

Jake sighed. "Yeah, gimme a minute. Legs still hurt."

Chloe frowned. "Do you need your crutches again?" She walked over and sat next to Jake.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine soon. The chair was heavier than I thought."Chloe rested her head against Jake's shoulder. They stayed like that while everyone else continued unpacking boxes.

Rich went back to helping Christine with the TV, Brooke was unpacking kitchen boxes, and Jeremy took three boxes to his and Rich's room. They could only afford a two bedroom apartment, so the girls had their own room and Rich and Jeremy had to bunk together.

The girls had the bigger bedroom because Brooke's wardrobe needed a big closet. The master bedroom had a walk-in closet, and the guys didn't even want to try to fight Brooke on it. Jeremy didn't have that many clothes in the first place, so it would've been a waste of space.

Jeremy had left his bed at his dad's house if he wanted to visit, and Rich's bed would've taken up 50% of the room. So he ended up selling it (because Rich swears he's never stepping foot into his father's house again). They both decided on buying a bunk bed like they had in college, so until they had enough money for that, they had sleeping bags and pillows on the floor.

It looked kind of pathetic, now that Jeremy saw it. Boxes were stacked up along the walls. There was one desk that they agreed to share under the only window in the room, there was a dresser on both sides of the room, and another TV mount on one of the walls. Jeremy had no idea where the TV was, and he hoped to find it soon considering it was the spare TV his dad gave him.

Shrugging, Jeremy carried his boxes over to his side of the room. He hoped one day they'd be able to have a house-house so they wouldn't have to bunk again. Their last house had gotten too expensive when Jake and Chloe decided to move in together. Their landlord had been nice enough and gave them three months to find a new place to live, rent free.

Jeremy's first two boxes were clothes. It was mainly shirts and cardigans that he still wore. He could never give them up. He was even wearing his signature blue one that somehow still fit him since high school.

He winced at the thought of high school and the fact that he was now living with his former bully.

Shoving that thought in the trash, he opened a drawer on the dresser and stuffed his jeans into it. He'd fold them later. He'd have to, or one of the girls would do it for him. They'd end up folding them when they did the laundry, anyway.

He heard voices by the front door. He stepped out to say goodbye, but the front door had already closed when he poked his head out. He stepped back into the bedroom and quickly finished unloading his clothes into the dresser. He looked at the closet. They'd have to divide it in half later.

He folded up the boxes and set them outside the door. He walked into the living room where everyone was now sitting. Brooke and Christine took the couch, and Rich sat cross-legged on the floor in front of it. They were watching TV.

That reminded Jeremy. "Is the internet set up yet?" he asked.

Christine and Brooke looked at each other. "I don't think so," Brooke said. "You can try, though."

Jeremy sat on the arm of the couch next to Christine and pulled out his phone. He tried to load Google. Nothing. Damn. More data wasting until it was back. During the three months of house hunting, they turned off their internet to save money. Brooke had unlimited data, so she was in charge of finding a house while the other three suffered. Rich had always ran out of data first and would spend the next few days complaining. Christine limited herself to ten minutes of internet a day and could last throughout the month. Jeremy went until he used 75% and then turned it off, as he had carry-over data.

He pulled up YouTube and scrolled through his recommendeds. There was never anything interesting, so he didn't know why he bothered. He was about to close out of the app when something caught his attention. A video from four years ago with the face of someone he hadn't had contact with since junior year.

Michael Mell had a YouTube account. A pretty successful one, if the view count was anything to go by. The video was a cover of the song Somebody I Used To Know. Jeremy clicked on the video. He recognized the background as Michael's parents' living room. A guy sat next to him with an acoustic guitar.

The familiarity hit Jeremy in the chest, and he inhaled sharply, breath getting caught in his throat. The cords of the song begun, and a few seconds later, Michael's voice came through.

"_Now and then I think of when we were together,_" Michael sang, voice low. "_Like when you said you felt so happy you could die._"

Jeremy never knew Michael had such a good voice. He never wanted to sing in front of anybody no matter how much Jeremy begged.

Jeremy listened as the guitar picked up volume as the chorus came up.

"_But you didn't have to cut me off, make out like it never happened and that we were nothing._" The pain on Michael's face was evident, and it hurt Jeremy.

The song went on, and Jeremy's guilt grew. He hadn't meant to leave Michael, not again.

"Who is that?" Rich asked, not looking at Jeremy. "He has a great voice."

Jeremy didn't answer, too wrapped into the music. Christine leaned over and inhaled sharply. She mouthed the answer to Rich, who furrowed his eyebrows. Rich mouthed back and Christine made hand motions of putting something over her head and covering her ears.

"You can just say who it is," Jeremy snapped. "It's not a big secret if I already know."

"Sorry," Christine said. "I just didn't want to upset you."

Jeremy shrugged. Michael's voice faded as the song came to an end. "Whatever." He clicked on another video Michael made. This one was Rolling In The Deep. The video was completely different from the first one he watched. Jeremy checked the date. It was uploaded a few days ago.

Jeremy didn't know how to feel about that.

There were two other guys along with Michael. Michael was in front of the microphone, the guy from the first video was playing an electric guitar, and the third guy was playing drums. The video quality had gone up significantly.

The guitar started first, letting the viewer get a feel for the song. A second later, Michael's voice came in. It was low at first.

"_There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark._" The video cut to close-ups of the instruments and their players. Guitar Guy had his tongue sticking out, and he flipped his hair to the other side.

The video went to Michael's face as he belted out the first chorus. "_We could've had it all! Rolling in the deep!_" Guitar Guy leaned forward and sang quiet backup vocals. "_You had my heart inside your hand. And you played it to the beat._"

The instruments faded until the only sound was the beat of the bass drum. The video cut back to a full shot of everyone. It continued in a similar style for the rest of the video.

Jeremy glanced up from his phone when the song ended. Rich was still watching TV, while Christine and Brooke were in the kitchen. It looked like they were trying to come up with something to make for dinner.

Jeremy's little YouTube spree went on for another half hour. Christine sent him concerned glances every once in a while. She set a plate of crackers she managed to find in front of him. He let it sit there.

Rich turned off the TV when it got darker out. He shook Jeremy out of his haze. "Dude," he asked. "You gonna be okay?"

Jeremy blinked and looked around him. The plate had somehow fallen on the floor, and girls had gone to their room. Jeremy shrugged. "I just. . . I miss him."

Rich gave a sympathetic smile. "I get it, man. Try contacting him."

Jeremy gave a start. "No!" Rich blinked at him. "It'd be weird. Years with no contact, I can't just call him up like we saw each other yesterday."

Rich put his hands up. "Yeah, probably not. But think about it, Jeremy." Rich walked away.

Jeremy closed out of YouTube. He considered Rich's words and looked through his contacts app. He searched through the few names he had until he stumbled upon "Player 1". His thumb hovered over the call button.

Jeremy paused. They haven't spoken in seven years; what would the odds Michael still had his number? He swiped out of the app in defeat. He clicked back on YouTube and scrolled through Michael's account.

In the description of one of the videos was a link to a Twitter account. Jeremy clicked on it. The account name was the same as the YouTube: **@michaelsbathroom**. Weird name, but Jeremy had seen a video titled **Michael In The Bathroom - Original Song** and thought it fit.

Jeremy scrolled through the tweets. Michael wasn't an active user. He would only post about new videos once or twice a week, or if they were doing an open mic night at a café or something. Jeremy saw he had around 800 thousand followers.

He totally wasn't stalking him.

Jeremy decided to make the worst choice of his life. Second worst choice. First was almost destroying the school.

He was about to slide into Michael's DMs. If they were open. He knew that some people had them closed because too many people messaged them.

Lucky for him, Michael's were open. He typed out a quick message and hit send before the regret could even knock at the door.

**@JerJer: sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know that I love your covers!**

He turned off his data and phone before he could see if Michael responded.


	2. You Only Get Redemption When You're Dead and Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy hadn't changed, surprisingly. Usually, people had major changes after high school. Jeremy looked like he was still in his junior year. Same hair color, same clothing style.
> 
> The only difference was that Jeremy had grown a bit, and his hair was longer. It wasn't too long, just a bit below his ears. It fit him, if Michael was being honest.
> 
> Jeremy opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Michael just glared at him and walked passed, heading back to the bar. He made sure to bump his shoulder into Jeremy. Michael took a shaky breath and leaned against the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Michael was scrolling through his Twitter feed when a message popped up. It was from somebody called "JerJer." Michael ignored the small spike in his chest. It probably wasn't him, there were lots of other people in the world with the same nicknames.

**@JerJer: sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know that I love your covers, especially the somebody i used to know one**

Michael smiled to himself. He got a lot of DMs from random people about how they wanted to do inappropriate acts to him or vice versa. Those ended up being deleted. Very rarely did he get DMs that sounded genuine.

**@michaelsbathroom: that old one? That was my second time on camera, can't believe that out of all the other ones that's the one you chose lol.**

Michael looked at the guy's profile picture. It was Pac-Man.

**@michaelsbathroom: love your pic btw! I happen to have a Pac-Man tattoo.**

A few minutes passed with no response. Michael shrugged and tossed his phone on the couch. He stood up and walked over to the closed bathroom door. He pounded on it so his roommate could hear over his loud music.

"Eric!" Michael called, resting his fist against the door. "We gotta go in five minutes, hurry up!"

"Chill, Mike," Eric replied. "The show isn't for another fifteen."

Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The owner won't let us perform if we're even one minute late. Hurry your ass."

Michael's phone buzzed from its spot on the couch. Michael picked it up.

**@JerJer: heh, yeah. My friend and I used to play Pac-Man all the time at an old arcade that closed down a few years ago.**

Michael smiled and hopped back on the couch. He typed out a response.

**@michaelsbathroom: ah that's too bad. Great game. Have you ever play apocalypse of the damned? A guy i knew and i would play it every day but we got stuck on lvl 9**

Michael eyed the clock on the oven, watching as the minutes ticked down. The bathroom door opened and Eric stepped out. His hair was styled so most of it was on the left side. The tips of his hair were a faded blue.

"C'mon, Michael. We're gonna be late," Eric joked. Michael rolled his eyes and got off the couch. He took one more look at himself in the hallway mirror. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, making sure there was enough gel in it. He fixed his headband, making sure it wasn't riding up.

"You can make yourself look pretty after we set up," Eric commented. He twirled his keys around a finger. "You were the one that wanted to leave so badly, come on."

Michael followed Eric out of the house. He let him lock the door. It wasn't like they needed to, they lived in a small town and everybody was really nice. When they first moved, their neighbor brought over a pie. They ate that within three days.

Locking the door made Michael feel safer though, so they did it anyway. The two roommates walked to Eric's car. They would've used Michael's PT Cruiser that somehow was still running, but Eric's van was bigger and could fit Joey's drum set and Eric's guitar.

The car started, and Michael reached for the AUX cord. "My turn, dude."

Eric shook his head and put the car in reverse.

Michael plugged in his phone and scrolled through his playlist. It was a playlist of all the songs they've covered, by the original bands, though. He felt it was fitting they listened to them. Michael sang along to every song, but not quite using his full voice. He didn't want to ruin it. He hummed most of the songs and sang with the chorus. Eric nodded his head to the beat.

Most of the songs were by State Champs, Michael realized. Huh. They should really start to branch out. They had some Simple Plan songs, but State Champs dominated their channel.

It took them ten minutes to get to the building. It was a large bar called Boat House. Michael found that name weird, but he couldn't complain. His channel was literally called Michael's Bathroom Covers.

His phone buzzed. It was the Twitter guy.

**@JerJer: ive heard of it. My friends are dragging me to a bar thats an hour away to get my mind off things.**

**@michaelsbathroom: ooh what bar?**

**@JerJer: Boat House or something.**

**@michaelsbathroom: aw sweet, that's where I'm performing soon! Just gotta set up first.**

Michael tucked his phone into his jeans pocket and helped Eric carry in the drum set. The door was propped open for them. They had five minutes to set up and do a sound check. Joey was already on the stage, setting up the speakers. Michael was carrying the cymbals and stands while Eric had the Tom Tom drums. Michael was just helping bring the parts in. Joey was the one that would set it up. Michael didn't play drums so he'd mess it up.

Michael climbed the short stair to the stage. He didn't raise his foot high enough and tripped. The cymbals clashed to the ground, Michael on top of them. He yelled as a cymbal dug into his side, sliding across the skin.

"Michael!" Eric shouted from where he was. "You alright, dude?"

"Be careful!" Joey yelled. "Drums aren't cheap, you know."

Michael rolled off the cymbals. The sounds hurt his ears. "I guess. I totally didn't just almost break my ribs."

Joey walked over to Michael and held out a hand. Michael accepted and stood up. He hissed and held his side. Joey pointed towards a hall where the bathrooms were. He helped Michael walk down the stairs.

"Don't trip on the way there!" Eric called.

Michael raised his middle finger. He pushed open the door for the men's bathroom. Walking up to the mirrors, he raised his shirt and inspected his stomach. He wasn't bleeding, cymbals weren't sharp enough for that. But there was a long red line across his middle. He pressed a finger against it and winced. That would bruise soon. He put the shirt down and turned on the sink. The water was cold. He splashed some on his face. He took paper towels and wiped the water off.

He left the bathroom and made his way back to the stage. The wound made him limp slightly. His ankle was hurting as well. He probably rolled it.

The drum set was put together when he got back on stage. Michael walked to the front of the stage and messed with the microphone. He made sure it was on before tapping the top. He exhaled over it, listening to the loud sound.

Michael hummed a short tune. He wrapped his hands around the mic and started singing. "_Can anybody hear me? Or am I talking to myself? My mind is running empty, in this search for someone else who doesn't look right through me_."

He stepped back.

"Great warm up, Mell," Joey said, taking a seat on his drum seat.

"You wanna hear more?" Michael asked, turning around. "I could do actual vocal warm ups. Those crazy ones they made us do in choir class or something."

"Please don't," Joey groaned.

Michael smiled. "Wanna hear the one about the ghost of John?"

"No."

Michael grabbed the mic out of its stand and walked over to Joey. "_Have you seen the ghost of John? Long, white bones with the skin all gone. Oooh, oooooh._"

"Michael, please."

"_Wouldn't it be chilly with no skin on?_" He did an exaggerated evil laugh.

"That was the creepiest shit I've ever heard," Eric commented.

Michael laughed. "Blame the choir teacher."

Joey shook his head and pushed Michael away. "When did you even take choir?"

Michael shrugged. "Middle school, I think. Jere- I. . . Someone I knew made me join it."

Eric and Joey gave each other a look but didn't press anything. The minutes ticked by and the bar opened. Few people started trickling in. Michael's group didn't start until 7 O'clock.

He decided to make small talk with the bartender. She flashed smiles as she handed people their drinks. Michael ordered a water.

"Don't want anything stronger, huh?" The bartender asked, sliding the glass over to him.

Michael took a sip. "Unfortunately." He shook his head. "I'm the guy performing tonight."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? I've seen your videos a while back, can't believe I didn't recognize you."

Michael chuckled. "It's cool." He finished his water and left the glass on the bar. He eyed the clock behind the girl. It was almost seven.

He made his way back to the stage. He almost got to the top when he saw a familiar short figure in the corner of his eye. He turned around and darted off the stairs, ignoring the calls of his band members.

"Rich!" He called. The short guy turned in surprise. Michael slowed down and stopped in front of him. "What're you doing here?"

Michael and Rich had somehow kept contact since high school. They never got each other's number, but they found them through Twitter.

"Hanging out with some friends," Rich said. "Wanna meet them?"

Michael shook his head. "Can't. We were supposed to start three minutes ago. But uh, do you have your phone?"

Rich nodded. "Why?" He pulled it out.

"Could you record the show for me so I can put it on my channel?"

"Sure, dude. Now go sing." Rich pushed his shoulder. Michael snorted and walked away. He limped up the stage stairs and over to the microphone. He tapped on the mic once more, making sure it was still on.

He nodded to Joey, and then to Eric. Joey took in a short deep breath before starting the music. Eric joined in right away. Eric leaned towards his mic and sang quiet oh's.

Michael waited a few beats before starting. "_One year ago with a flower in hand. One year ago we wrote our names in the sand. The wind would blow your summer hair._"

Michael squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip around the microphone as the chorus picked up. "_I wanna sleep with ease again! I wanna get some fucking sleep again! You only ask forgiveness after it's gone wrong._"

He pictured the events after the SQUIPcident, how Jeremy could barely make time for him and how he would only ever come around when he needed something. He focused on the anger and betrayal he felt during the Halloween party, during the end of junior year when Jeremy stopped coming over.

"_I need to get upstate again, need to get my head on straight again. You only get redemption when you're dead and gone._"

He opened his eyes and took deep breaths as Eric sang more backup vocals. The guitar and drums vibrated the stage.

His voice was soft for the second verse. "_Ten years from now we'll be tired and old. Ten years from now we won't ever leave home, singing "I'll be there for you"._"

Jeremy proved that wrong. They'd always said that they'd be friends forever, but Jeremy had given him multiple reasons to think otherwise. Michael believed that he needed Jeremy, but he was shown differently. Jeremy was only a want, not a need for survival.

Michael took all the sadness and hurt and shoved them into the chorus. Beads of sweat trailed down Michael's face. He wiped it away.

Michael had nothing left to say to Jeremy. Nothing to celebrate, either. Jeremy had his chance, and he blew it. Michael was sick of it.

"_I need to get upstate again,_" Michael stomped his foot on the stage, "_need to get my head on straight again!_" Michael pointed a finger out into the audience. "_You only get redemption when you're dead and gone._"

The music ended. Michael lowered his hand.

_You only get redemption, Jeremy, when you're dead and gone._

The people who had been paying attention or weren't already blackout drunk started clapping and whistling.

Michael took a few seconds to calm himself. First song of the night and he was already worn out.

The band performed for another 45 minutes. They sang songs in a similar fashion as the first one. All You Are Is History, Gone Too Soon, Astronaut, and others. Each one was laced with anger and fear and regret.

Anger towards Jeremy.

Fear for being alone.

Regret of not trying hard enough.

There was a five-minute break for Michael, Eric, and Joey. Michael was beginning to regret drinking that water before singing. He ran down the stage stairs and over to the short hallway where the bathrooms were.

He quickly did his business and found himself standing in front of the mirrors. He checked his stomach again. There was a faint bruise, which would be more prominent tomorrow. His ankle hurt less, though. That's always a plus.

Michael was fixing his hair when the bathroom door opened. He would've turned his head to stare, but that's just downright creepy. Instead, he glanced at the guy through the mirror, and his hand froze mid swipe. The guy made eye contact with him, and Michael turned around.

Jeremy hadn't changed, surprisingly. Usually, people had major changes after high school. Jeremy looked like he was still in his junior year. Same hair color, same clothing style.

The only difference was that Jeremy had grown a bit, and his hair was longer. It wasn't too long, just a bit below his ears. It fit him, if Michael was being honest.

Jeremy opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Michael just glared at him and walked passed, heading back to the bar. He made sure to bump his shoulder into Jeremy. Michael took a shaky breath and leaned against the door.

He ran his hands over his face. He pushed himself off the door and walked back over to the stage. Joey was scrolling through his phone and Eric was wiping off his guitar.

Michael walked up to Eric. "I want to sing that song."

Eric had looked confused before his eyes widened slightly. "Are you sure? It's not well written, and we could make some tweaks to it."

Michael shook his head. "Do you have your acoustic?"

"Always, Mike."

"Get it then."

Eric looked unsure, but walked over to Joey to let him know about the change of plans.

Michael walked over to the microphone. His eyes scanned the rows of tables, looking for Jeremy. He sat in the way back, with Rich and Jake. Michael inwardly groaned. He should've known that's who Rich was talking about.

Rich had his phone propped up on a coffee mug while he talked to Jeremy and Jake. Jake's crutches were leaning against his chair.

He still used those? Poor guy.

Eric now stood next to Michael, tuning the acoustic guitar. He glanced at Michael, silently double-checking that he was positive about this.

Michael took one last breath before tapping the mic. He cleared his throat. "Uh, good evening, everyone," he said. He pulled at his shirt collar. "We had some other songs planned tonight, but those plans have changed. I'm going to sing my very first song I posted to my YouTube channel, and fair warning; it's pretty emotional.

"It was written at an important date in my life. I normally don't get emotional with this stuff, but there's someone in the audience that needs to hear this. So without further ado, this is Michael In The Bathroom."

A few people chuckled at the title, but Michael didn't pay them attention. He was staring at Jeremy, who looked a bit pale.

Michael tore his gaze away from the man and nodded to Eric. Eric started playing.

Michael tapped his foot to the beat. "_I am hanging in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall. I could stay right here, or disappear, and nobody'd even notice at all._"

He still remembered how awful Jeremy made him feel, how awful it felt to be called a loser by his only friend who ditched him for a fucking pill.

"_I'm a creeper in a bathroom, 'cause my buddy kinda left me alone._" He risked a glance at Jeremy. Jeremy was staring back. "_But I'd rather fake pee than stand awkwardly or pretend to check a text on my phone._"

Hearing Jeremy close the bathroom door made Michael felt ripped in half. His other half had kicked him and left him alone. All Michael had done was try to help, and Jeremy just spat in his face and abandoned him.

"_Now I'm just Michael in the bathroom, Michael in the bathroom at a party. Forget how long it's been._"

People had been knocking on the door. Michael needed to wait until they left. He was flying solo, and he couldn't let anybody see. At least, not yet.

Jeremy had just walked out and ignored all of their time spent together. He was replacing those memories and Michael.

"_As I choke back the tears, I'll wait as long as I need 'til my face is dry or I'll just blame it on weed or something in my eye!_"

Michael ran his fingers through his hair and gripped the microphone tightly. The guitar started picking up speed.

"_Knock, knock, knock, knock. They're gonna start to shout soon. Knock, knock, knock, knock._"

He tapped his foot to the beat of the lyrics. The only thing he could focus on was the fact that he knew Jeremy was listening. He knew that he could finally, after all these years, show him how torn up he was about that night.

How torn up he was when Jeremy still left him even after Michael saved his sorry ass from the SQUIP.

The guitar got quieter and so did Michael's voice.

"_I wish I stayed at home in bed, watching cable porn. Or wish I'd off myself, wish I was never born!_" He shut his eyes and belted out the words.

_I'm a loner, so I must be a stoner, right?_

Michael stomped his foot on the stage. "_God, he's such a loser! Michael flying solo, who you think that you know? Michael in the bathroom by himself!_"

Eric began to pluck the guitar, signalling the songs end.

"_And all you know about me is my name._" Michael stared into the audience. "Awesome party, I'm _so_ glad I came."

The people broke into applause. Michael looked at Jeremy's empty chair.

He left. Jeremy left.

Michael scoffed. Of course. He was always so good about running away from his problems. Why would this time be any different?

But. It still hurt. Jeremy left while he was puking his feelings out, and he needed to hear them.

_Guess I'm still a loser to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it feels so great to be writing again. I'm in school, so I can't promise fast updates but I'll try my best
> 
> Chapter title/song Michael was singing - Dead and Gone by State Champs


	3. Ripped My Heart Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy stared at where Michael had disappeared. Jeremy suppressed a shudder and walked over to one of the many sinks. Turning on the sink, Jeremy shoved his hands under the spray and tossed water onto his face.
> 
> The cold shocked him out of his panic before the panic got worse. He shut the sink off, dried his hands, and leaned against the wall. He ran his palms over his eyes and sighed.
> 
> Of course. _Of fucking course_. He just had to run into Michael here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Jeremy's heart pounded against his rib cage as he waited for a response. He probably wouldn't get one; Michael most likely received thousands of DMs a day and wouldn't spare a glance at Jeremy's. His phone buzzing proved him wrong. Jeremy scrambled to pick it up.

**@michaelsbathroom: that old one? That was my second time on camera, can't believe that out of all the other ones that's the one you chose.**

Jeremy was about to type out a response, but Michael beat him to it.

**@michaelsbathroom: love your pic btw! I happen to have a PAC-Man tattoo.**

Jeremy shut his phone off and threw it onto the father side of the couch. His hands were shaking. He put them under his thighs in hope that they would stop. That was too much interaction from Michael.

Jeremy traced the outline of his tattoo. The memory was still fresh. They had gotten the tattoos when they turned 16. They both had permission from their parents and they chose PAC-Man.

Jeremy was in so much pain during the experience. He almost broke Michael's hand by holding it so hard.

A faint smile ghosted across Jeremy's face at the memory. It quickly fell off as he remembered that he caused Michael to leave him.

With shaky legs, he slid off the arm of the couch and crawled over to his phone. Sitting on his legs, he typed a response.

**@JerJer: heh, yeah. My friend and I used to play PAC-Man all the time at an old arcade that closed down a few years ago.**

The reply was almost instant. Jeremy got an image in his head of Michael sitting on the couch like him, staring at his DMs and waiting for a message.

**@michaelsbathroom: ah that's too bad. Great game. Have you ever played apocalypse of the damned? A guy i knew and i would play it every day but we got stuck on lvl 9**

Jeremy sucked in a breath and closed out of the app. He powered off his phone and slid it into his pocket. He ran his hands over his face and let his body fall onto the couch, head going face first into a pillow.

Michael remembered him. He _remembered him_.

Of course he did. How could you forget the person that left you for a glorified hot spot? How could you forget the guy that left you for popularity? The guy that called you a lo-

Jeremy sat up and put a hand over his mouth to keep sobs down. Jeremy heard one of the bedroom doors open. Rich poked his head out.

"You okay, dude?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing. He took a few steps out. "The whole Michael situation bothering you?"

Jeremy sighed. "What does it look like."

Rich made his way over to the couch. He was lost in thought. "Oh! I know a great bar an hour away. It's called Boat House. It'll get your mind off things, and who knows? You might meet someone." Rich winked, causing Jeremy's cheeks to redden.

He shrugged. "I don't know, Rich. I don't feel like going out. Let me wallow in my sadness."

Rich shook his head. "Nope. Can't negotiate this. I'll call up Jake and we'll leave in ten minutes."

Jeremy groaned and fell back onto the couch. Rich patted his back and walked away to call Jake. Jeremy rolled over so he faced the back of the couch. He grabbed his phone and powered it on. His phone said it was almost six. He had work the next morning, was drinking really a good idea? He was an editor for a publishing, and he wouldn't be able to edit anything if he had a killer hangover.

His original plan for life was to major in theater, like Christine, but the memories of the play from his junior year in high school kept him back. He wished he did, though. He shouldn't have let his past dictate his career.

Rich came back a few minutes later, still on the phone. "Okay, see you in a little bit bro." Rich hung up and pocketed his phone. "Jake is in. We're picking him up."

Jeremy sat up and gave Rich a blank stare. "Do I really have to go? Can't I just eat my depression in ice cream?"

Rich shook his head. "When I make up my mind, it's hard to change it."

Jeremy let out a small chuckle, thinking of that one meme with the guy sitting at a table outside that said "change my mind".

He sighed. "Fine. But don't expect this to work or anything."

Rich smiled and walked over to the front door. He slipped on his shoes--Jeremy wondered how he could do that when they were tied impossibly tight--and waited for the taller man. Jeremy gave in and stood up, making his way over to Rich.

"Shouldn't we tell Christine and Brooke where we're going?" Jeremy asked, untying his shoes so he could put them on.

"I'll text them later," Rich said. He unlocked the front door and waited for Jeremy to get his shoes on. The two walked out of the apartment. Luckily for Jeremy and his weak legs, they were able to find an available one on the first floor. Unluckily, it was right next to the garbage room so they'd probably end up hearing doors slamming ten times a day when people threw their trash away.

They reached Rich's car and got in. Jeremy took the passenger side. He decided to reply to Michael's recent DM while they drove.

**@JerJer: ive heard of it. My friends are dragging me to a bar thats an hour away to get my mind off of things.**

Michael's next DM was almost instant.

**@michaelsbathroom: ooh what bar?**

**@JerJer: Boat House or something.**

Jeremy turned off his phone and rested his head against the cold window. It might have been the middle of summer, but Rich had the air conditioner cranked all the way up. Luckily Jeremy still had his classic blue cardigan so he wasn't shivering.

Jeremy must've dosed off because when he opened his eyes, Jake was talking pretty loud. Jeremy tried to block the sound out by bringing his cardigan up over his head.

Rich laughed. "Jer, how does Jake talking wake you up, but not what happened when we got to his house?"

Jeremy reluctantly lowered his covering. "What happened?"

Jake leaned forward, his head peeking between the two front seats. "Well when Rich got here, I realized that for some reason there was a box of mine still in Rich's car from when Chloe and I moved. So we had to carry it over to the garage but I accidentally dropped it. Chloe just about killed me when she found out. It was her stuff."

Rich turned left. "And then he dropped his crutches coming out of the house."

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "Not my best moments."

Jeremy shook his head and stared out the window. They were approaching a long building. Rich pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. The three climbed out, and Jeremy was overtaken by warmth.

The three climbed out of the car and walked over to the entrance of the bar. Despite the fact that it opened just thirty minutes before they arrived, the place was already crowded. Rich managed to find a table that was empty. Jeremy sat down and laid his head on his arms. Rich patted his shoulder and wandered off. Jeremy fished out his phone and opened his DMs on Twitter.

**@michaelsbathroom: aw sweet, that's where I'm performing soon! Just gotta set up first.**

Jeremy felt his blood go cold and his face pale. Hands shaking, he set down his phone on the table. He looked around and sure enough, he spotted a small stage with Michael busy with a guitar. Michael set down the guitar and walked off the stage. Jeremy threw his head back into his arms, hoping Michael hadn't seen him. He glanced up and saw him at the bar, chatting with the bartender. A few moments later and he was walking back towards the stage, before seeing something and darting off it.

Jeremy's eyes widened as Michael approached Rich. They were talking like they were best friends. Guilt swam in Jeremy's gut.

They probably were best friends.

Rich nodded with something Michael said and made his way back to the table. "Sorry, Jeremy." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I didn't know Michael would be here."

"It's whatever." Jeremy tried to play it off, but his fingers were still shaking. "You guys were just helping me in a way, I'd be a dick to leave now."

Rich looked like he wanted to say something, but he got cut off by the band's music starting. He quickly set his phone against a cup.

Michael's voice was soft as he sang the first verse. His eyes closed as his voice drifted to a silence.

"_Once easy love, now you're making it rough. You know I try and say it's never enough. You left with ease and didn't care_."

Jeremy's mind flashed back to junior year, after the SQUIPcident. Jeremy had left, and for the same people he left Michael for in the first place. He hadn't meant to, of course, but it wasn't like he tried to keep the friendship.

"_What used to seem like heaven felt like hell!_"

Jeremy couldn't even begin to understand how Michael felt. He didn't have the SQUIP, and he still abandoned him. And here he was, after all these years, singing his heart out.

Michael began the chorus. A particular line struck deep within Jeremy. _You only ask forgiveness after it's gone wrong._

Jeremy hadn't apologized during the Halloween party, he hadn't even apologized during the play. It had taken him until Christine drank the Mountain Dew Red to gather the courage and ask for forgiveness.

He hadn't deserved Michael's immediate acceptance, he hadn't deserved the complete acceptance from everyone else.

Jeremy's focus wasn't on the performance anymore, it was on how shitty of a person he had been all those years after the SQUIPcident and hadn't even bothered to contact Michael. He didn't have a reason either. Hell, he still had his number! He could have sent a text before he fell asleep in his dorm in college, he could've sent one during semester breaks.

He didn't realize that nearly an hour passed until Rich tapped on his arm.

"You alright, dude?" Rich asked, leaning over the table with a look of concern. "You need to leave?"

Jeremy shook his head and pushed himself away from the table with shaking arms. "I just need the bathroom." He hurried away from the table and stage. He didn't see Michael as he walked and he hoped Michael didn't see him. He pushed open the bathroom door, looking at the ground while he pulled down his shirt a bit. He looked up and stopped his movements.

Michael stood in front of the one the mirrors, fixing his hair. Michael's hands froze and the two made eye contact through the mirror.

Jeremy swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Michael was already pushing passed him. His shoulder knocked into Jeremy's, making his stumble back into the wall. The bathroom door slammed shut. Jeremy stared at where Michael had disappeared. Jeremy suppressed a shudder and walked over to one of the many sinks. Turning on the sink, Jeremy shoved his hands under the spray and tossed water onto his face.

The cold shocked him out of his panic before the panic got worse. He shut the sink off, dried his hands, and leaned against the wall. He ran his palms over his eyes and sighed.

Of course. _Of fucking course_. He just had to run into Michael here. It was just his luck.

Jeremy pushed himself off the wall and made his way out of the bathroom. He found his table and sat down, crossing his arms on it and putting his head between them.

Someone tapped a microphone. "Uh, good evening, everyone," Michael said. Jeremy lifted his head and stared at the stage, seeing Michael pull at the collar of his shirt. "We had some other songs planned tonight, but those plans have changed. I'm going to sing my very first song I posted to my YouTube channel, and fair warning; it's pretty emotional.

"It was written at an important date in my life. I normally don't get emotional with this stuff, but there's someone in the audience that needs to hear this. So without further ado, this is Michael In The Bathroom."

Something about that statement made Jeremy's stomach drop. Michael staring right at him did not help in the slightest.

The soft plucking of an acoustic guitar started.

Michael took a deep breath and started singing. Jeremy felt his blood run cold as Michael sang about a fall party.

"_Everything felt fine when I was half of a pair. And through no fault of mine, there's no other half there_."

Jeremy's guilt grew as he realized it was about the Halloween party. This song was about him.

Anyone else would be ecstatic to find out someone wrote a song about them, but this song was different. It was full of hurt and abandonment and fears.

Jeremy always had the slight suspicion that Michael was hurt when he took the SQUIP, but he didn't realize that hurt ran that deep.

"_I am hiding but he's out there, just ignoring all our history. Memories get erased and I'll get replaced with a newer, cooler, version of me_."

Michael was right. In a way. He had replaced him. With Rich and Jake and everyone else. 12 years of friendship and Jeremy threw it away. For what? A few seconds of popularity? A girl that he had no chance with?

Michael kept singing and Jeremy kept exploring old memories.

Rich kept sending him concerned glances every few seconds. The flood of emotions Jeremy felt from the song and memories became too much for him. He didn't hear Rich call after him as he bolted out of the bar. Jeremy shoved the doors open and was instantly hit with cold air. Well, colder air than inside the bar considering it was only August. He leaned against the bar's wall and slid down so he was sitting on the sidewalk, drawing his knees to his chest. He put his face in his hands. His breaths came out ragged as he tried to calm himself down.

Old memories brought up old habits, and Jeremy found himself muttering the SQUIP's old sayings.

"_Everything about me is just terrible."_

_"Everything about me makes me want to die."_

_"You're pitiful Jeremy_."

Something yanked Jeremy's hands away from his knees. Jeremy's head snapped up and met Rich's eyes. Rich had an alarmed look written on his face, his eyes wide and mouth parted slightly.

"Never," Rich said. "_Never_ repeat what that thing has told you. It's not true."

"Rich-"

"No, Jeremy!" he yelled. "That flash drive is a manipulative piece of shit and you shouldn't listen to it."

Jeremy pulled his arms back. "It's true!" he countered. "I left Michael, and made him feel like shit. I am terrible!" Jeremy cut Rich off before he could speak. "Can we just. . . Can we go home?"

Rich frowned and was about to say something but didn't. "Yeah. Yeah, we can. I'll go get Jake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is kicking my ass but I powered through with another chapter! Hope you enjoyed this angst fest! It's not over yet so keep your tissues
> 
> Chapter title - Dead and Gone by Cult To Follow


	4. This Sinking Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks have passed since Jeremy's freak out, and Michael brought up the idea of meeting up. Jeremy almost sent back a confirmation before remembering who it was. So he kept making up excuses.
> 
> He had a doctor's appointment, he was busy with work that week, family was visiting.
> 
> Each time, his response got weaker and weaker.
> 
> He was running out of ideas and reasons to not agree. Michael seemed to message him less and less with each answer. Whether he was getting frustrated or giving up, Jeremy had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Jeremy was scrolling through his YouTube subscriptions and saw Michael had uploaded an hour long video. One look at the thumbnail and he knew it was from that show a few days ago. So that's why Rich was recording.

Jeremy clicked the video to give it a like and closed out of it, not needing to watch the video. He opened his Twitter app and went to his DMs.

**@JerJer: great performance**

He had just gotten back from a long shift at the publishing building. His back ached from staying bent over his office desk while he edited the multiple stories he was given. One of them was behind schedule because the author decided to skip around with their chapters and had no idea where to stick what scenes where.

How they managed to get their story approved by the company, Jeremy had no idea.

He thought YouTube would be a good way to de-stress, but Michael's video put him off. He was worried if he kept going through his recommendations that he'd just find Michael's videos. He just wanted an evening to not think of Michael.

Which was why it had obviously been a good idea to message him right after work.

Now he sat on the couch, staring at his DMs like the stalker he was.

Getting nothing in response, Jeremy tossed his phone onto the couch and stood up. He looked around the living room, seeing the piles of boxes left untouched. He'd been so wrapped up in the whole Michael situation that he forgot they actually had to unpack their shit.

Jeremy forced himself over to one of the stacks and started looking through them, reading the labels and gently moving them aside when they weren't his or just for the house. He wanted to respect the girls' privacy and not touch their things, and he was scared Rich would get upset if Jeremy tried unpacking for him.

He was the only one home so he'd have to figure out where things go on his own. Brooke had gotten a job as a hairstylist, and her shifts ran late. She worked for a really well known place, lots of rich people went there. From what he's heard, they tended to be snobby but Brooke didn't mind. The few that were nice exchanged beauty tips with her.

Rich working on getting his master's degree so he could be a therapist. It surprised everyone when he announced that he was majoring in psychology. He said the SQUIPcident had opened his eyes to see just how many people were actually struggling, especially young people. He didn't want anyone to go through pain, or get to the point he did and take illegal and dangerous things just for friends.

Christine worked for a local theater. She was working her way up as an actress. She had gotten a supporting role in Grease. She didn't complain. As much as she got the leads in school plays, real life productions often went for the more experienced. So she got the role of Frenchie.

Jeremy finally found a few boxes for the kitchen and headed over there. He set them down on the counter by the sink and ripped off the tape. They had ran out of packing tape so they used regular scotch tape.

Thinking about it now, that probably wasn't a good idea. There were glasses and plates that were fragile and the boxes could have easily ripped open.

He pulled out a few glasses that had been wrapped in newspaper and unwrapped them. They look fine, a few scratches from age and misuse but nothing big.

He set the glasses on the counter next to the boxes and turned around to face the cupboards. He opened one of them and decided the middle shelf would be good for glasses. He began unpacking the rest of the cups and mugs and placing them on the middle shelf. Bowls and plates got the bottom shelf, bowls to the left and plates to the right.

Jeremy reached into the box, only to realize it was empty. He simply pushed it onto the floor. He'd fold it up later.

While he was going through box after box, the door unlocked and Rich stepped inside.

"Hey Rich," Jeremy called as he stood on his toes to reach the top shelf. The middle one had become full.

"Sup, Heere," Rich said as he kicked off his shoes. He took notice of the significantly shorter box stack in the living room. "Unpacking?"

"Nah, just decided to move around all the dishes." Jeremy stepped away from the cupboard. "I'll get the boxes out of the way soon."

Rich waved his hand and walked into their room. "You know where the TV is? The mound is just on the wall by itself looking sad."

Jeremy stood under the door frame. "I think it's in the garage. Nobody wanted to bring it up, I guess."

Rich pouted. Jeremy heard his phone chime from where he left it on the couch, and he left to grab it.

Of course it was Michael. That's all he seemed to text nowadays.

**@michaelsbathroom: thanks dude! You should've came up to me that night, we could've talked about shit or whatever.**

Jeremy sighed and typed out a response.

**@JerJer: yeah, but unfortunately something came up and I left before your last song.**

Not a complete lie. He _did_ leave, but just in the middle of the song. Pocketing his phone, he ended up following Rich out the door.

"Why are you asking me to help with the TV?" Jeremy asked. "My arms are noodles."

"You're the only one home," Rich explained. "And it'll be a great workout for you."

"It'll kill me, that's what."

Rich laughed and lifted open the garage door. He pushed his way passed the empty, folded up boxes. He pulled the TV out from behind whatever junk they couldn't fit into the apartment. "C'mon, Heere. Help me with it."

Jeremy sighed and reluctantly went over to Rich. They both had a good hold on the TV, and Rich told Jeremy to lift. He struggled. He was able to lift the TV a few inches off the ground.

"When's the last time you worked out?" Rich asked, giving the tall boy a concerned look.

Jeremy tensed. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"You're talking to a future therapist, I can help."

Jeremy's gaze fell to the dusty garage floor. "Junior year of high school."

Rich was silent. His head moved slowly, nodding. "Yeah. Okay. Right, sorry."

Jeremy shrugged. "Let's just get the TV into the apartment."

It took them a lot of struggling and breaks before they made it back. Jeremy would take five steps before his arms nearly gave out. Rich ended up lifting the TV the rest of the way while Jeremy carried the cables and DVD player. He figured his Xbox was in the apartment somewhere. He'd find it sooner or later.

He did have to help Rich lift the TV onto the mount, however. Rich kept telling him to lift with his legs and not his arms. Jeremy didn't understand the difference, but somehow they managed to not break their expensive technology. Rich hooked up the cable box and grabbed the remote, and sat on his sleeping bag on his side of the room.

"Oh yeah," Jeremy said, "sure, just leave me to hook up our game consoles and DVD player."

"Hey man," Rich defended, "I basically carried the entire thing here so let me relax."

Jeremy scoffed and continued hooking up every wire possible. His phone began to go off. When he was done with the wires, he pulled it out to see what the constant buzzing was about. His eyes widened slightly. Michael had been spamming him.

**@michaelsbathroom: speaking of that night can i rant to you? I know we just met and all but like,,, i need to**

**@michaelsbathoom: i'll do it anyway**

**@michaelsbathoom: that night my old best friend was there. We left on extremely bad terms so i was kinda upset he was there. The last song I sang was directed at him and he just,,, left right in the middle of it. I was pouring my heart and soul out and he fucking left.**

Jeremy felt his face pale. His fingers shook as he read each message.

**@michaelsbathroom: you know its funny. You kind of remind me of him**

Jeremy dropped his phone. He knelt down and picked it up. Michael knew. Oh god, he _knew_. Jeremy shook his head. No, there was no way he knew. He would've told him.

Or maybe not.

Michael tended to hide his feelings in favor of others.

Jeremy typed back a response.

**@JerJer: that's a weird coincidence. I'm sure he feels bad for whatever he did, but then again I'm not him.**

Jeremy walked over to his side of the room and sat on his sleeping bag. He tossed his phone back and forth between his hands, waiting for a reply.

Rich looked over. "Dude," he said, "your anxiety is making me nervous."

Jeremy let his phone fall. "Sorry."

Rich turned towards him. "What's bothering you, anyway? Is it what I said earlier?"

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows. "What? No." He sighed. "I think Michael found out who I am."

"Is that good?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Jeremy put his head in the palms of his hands. "We left on such bad terms. What if he really is done with me?"

"You're making it sound like you two broke up." Rich bit his lip. "Maybe you can talk it out."

Jeremy looked up. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Rich shrugged. "I know you can make your own decisions, man, but know that I'm here if you need it."

Jeremy nodded. "Thanks."

A few weeks have passed since Jeremy's freak out, and Michael brought up the idea of meeting up. Jeremy almost sent back a confirmation before remembering who it was. So he kept making up excuses.

He had a doctor's appointment, he was busy with work that week, family was visiting.

Each time, his response got weaker and weaker.

He was running out of ideas and reasons to not agree. Michael seemed to message him less and less with each answer. Whether he was getting frustrated or giving up, Jeremy had no idea.

It made Jeremy worry though. What if Michael had found him out and just decided to never speak to him again? Jeremy wasn't exactly being subtle. He had given hints during their first conversation for God's sake. And his typing style hadn't changed. If it were anyone else, they wouldn't even bother looking into that, but Michael had been Jeremy's best friend for twelve years. He had to have memorized his texts by now.

And here he was, on the couch with one finger over the send button. Jeremy swallowed. If his hit that button, there was no going back. He would have to face Michael.

He pressed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really proud of this chapter now that I look back at it, but I'm happy. Next chapter is the meeting!!
> 
> Chapter title - Why Worry by Set It Off


	5. Who Do You Think You Are?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry," he whispered. He looked over at Michael, who was finishing his drink. "Talk to you later, Michael."
> 
> Jeremy didn't miss the way Michael rolled his eyes. He muttered something under his breath, but Jeremy couldn't quite hear it. He slid out of his chair and made his way towards the front door. He paused, fingers wrapping around the handle. He looked over his shoulder at Michael, who was throwing away his cup and not meeting Jeremy's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

It was another week later when Jeremy met up with Michael. He tried rescheduling it, but Michael was firm on the date.

He pulled up to the Starbucks parking lot ten minutes late. He wanted to make sure he had enough time to not have a panic attack for the third time that afternoon while giving Michael enough time to arrive. He didn't want to be the first one there; he worried if Michael saw him when he entered, he'd turn around and leave.

Jeremy sat in the car after he turned it off. He could back out while he had the chance and let Michael believe that his online self just stood him up.

Jeremy shook his head. He couldn't. He had to do this. If he didn't, he would end up deleting his Twitter out of guilt and never leave his room again.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the car door and began his walk towards the Starbucks entrance. He walked into the cafe and let his eyes wander the room. It was pretty crowded, but it was a Saturday so it was expected. Lunch rush, most likely.

He found Michael sitting near the back, headphones slipped down his neck. He had a drink next to him. He was looking at his phone. His shoulders bounced up and down and his mouth was fixed in a smile.

Jeremy didn't notice himself getting closer to him until he slid into the chair across.

Michael glanced up quickly before going back to whatever had made him laugh. "Man, you gotta see this meme-"

He looked up, extending his phone towards Jeremy, and stopped his sentence. He stared at Jeremy, any good expression now fallen off his face.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, not moving an inch. Jeremy has never heard his voice so void of emotion. He didn't like it.

Jeremy fidgeted with his hands. "I uh, I'm the one you're here to meet."

Michael took his hand away. He didn't do or say anything for a few seconds before laughing in a low voice. He shook his head. "Of fucking course. I should've known it was you." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the short point it was in.

Jeremy looked down at his lap, not being able to look Michael in the eyes. Granted, Michael wasn't looking at him either.

"After all these years," Michael muttered, "you decide to show your face. Why now?"

Jeremy found his voice. "Your videos showed up in my recommendations," he whispered. He lifted his head. Michael was staring at the table, both elbows on the table and hands holding his forehead. "I watched a few and then-"

Michael's head snapped up. "Then why didn't you just say it was you?"

Jeremy swallowed, Michael's glare making him shrink back. He always used to make fun of Michael's height. Now he wondered if that was how he felt. "I was scared," he said. "I didn't know how you would react."

Michael threw his hands in the air. "So you decided to basically catfish me?" His hands slapped against the table.

"Well what else was I supposed to do? After what happened how would I know if you would block me or not?" Jeremy shot back, suddenly feeling defensive. "You just. . . You left after junior year, you stopped talking to me."

Michael snorted. "Sound familiar?"

Ouch. He deserved that. Tears pricked the corners of Jeremy's eyes. Fuck, he couldn't cry. Not now, not in public. His back hurt, and he instantly sat up straighter. Michael rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"You prioritized your friends over me," Michael said in a quiet voice. "When we were in high school, I kept track of how much time we spent together after that fucking pill. Sounds creepy, I know. But I had lost my only friend and I didn't want that to happen again."

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows. "They were your friends too, Micah-"

Michael frowned. "You lost your privileges to that nickname a long time ago, Jeremy."

"But I was also still spending time with you," Jeremy continued. "We still hung out."

Michael barked out a laugh, leaning forward. "Sure, but that time went down and down until I only saw you in the halls and in class. Suddenly the only time I saw you alone was in the bathrooms as one of us left and the other entered."

"You could have talked to me."

"I wanted you to make the move that time. I was tired of waiting on the sidelines for you, especially after what happened. Then, I had waited and waited, hoping that you would actually see me and not through me. I wasn't going to let that happen again. I gave you chance after chance. How long was it until you realized you hadn't spoken to your best friend?"

Jeremy was silent. He didn't want to answer that question. A tear fell from his eye.

"How long?" Michael repeated.

"Graduation," he admitted.

Michael's mouth parted in surprise. His eyes were laced with disappointment. He shook his head. He pushed his glasses up.

"By then I was scared that you had forgotten about me," Jeremy continued. "So I didn't try."

Jeremy wiped his eyes, ashamed that he was even crying. His cheeks burned. He didn't have the right to cry, not after what he had put Michael through.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but a barista walked over to the table.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave. Your yelling is upsetting the costumers."

Jeremy looked around and saw some older costumers giving them glares. "Sorry," he whispered. He looked over at Michael, who was finishing his drink. "Talk to you later, Michael."

Jeremy didn't miss the way Michael rolled his eyes. He muttered something under his breath, but Jeremy couldn't quite hear it. He slid out of his chair and made his way towards the front door. He paused, fingers wrapping around the handle. He looked over his shoulder at Michael, who was throwing away his cup and not meeting Jeremy's eyes.

Jeremy sped home, not caring if he went over the speed limit. Tears clouded his vision and he desperately tried to wipe them away. The last thing he needed was to get in an accident.

The cars passed by him in a blur. Drivers honked as he drove in front of them too close. He was sure some were giving him the finger, but he couldn't care less. Right now, all he wanted to do was get home, grab one of the tubs of ice cream Christine got, and eat his feelings away in his room with sad Netflix shows in the background.

Pulling into the apartment parking lot, he managed to find a space near their house. He hopped out of his vehicle and locked it. He rushed over to their porch door and opened it, stepping inside and taking off his shoes.

Jeremy heard Christine and Brooke talking in their room as he passed it to get to the kitchen. He opened the freezer and grabbed the vanilla ice cream like the basic person he was. Grabbing a clean spoon from the drawer, he made his way to his room and sat on his sleeping bag. They still hadn't gotten a bed yet. He and Rich had gone bed hunting but all their options had been too expensive.

Taking off the cover, Jeremy drove the spoon into the frozen treat. Putting the spoon in his mouth, he let it stay there as he browsed Netflix. He couldn't find anything sad that wasn't a rom-com. He didn't really care for those, they were more Brooke's thing.

He settled on Coco. The ending made him bawl every time.

He wasn't even ten minutes into the movie when someone entered the room and snatched the ice cream away.

He whined, reaching back to grab it. Christine held it behind her back, a frown on her face.

"Jeremy, we talked about this," she said. "You can't eat your feelings."

"But it feels nice."

Christine took the spoon when Jeremy tried to stick it in the tub. "Maybe for a little bit but then your stomach will hurt."

Jeremy pouted. "You and Brooke eat an entire tub alone when you were watching movies."

Christine sighed. "That was different. We had no intentions of doing that. Plus that was two people. You're going to get sick if you finish this." Christine went to go put the ice cream away and came back, sitting next to Jeremy. She tucked her legs under her. "What happened?"

Jeremy sighed. "Where do I begin?"

He retailed the whole thing, from getting there to getting kicked out. Christine listened without interrupting, even when Jeremy had started crying again. She just wrapped her arms around him.

"It's okay," she whispered when he was done. He was just trying to control his breathing while pressed against her shoulder.

"No it's not," he muttered. He removed himself from Christine's hug. "He didn't forgive me then, why should he now?"

"I didn't say anything about forgiveness. Did you explain to him?"

Jeremy shook his head. "I didn't get the chance to."

Christine bit her lip, glancing around the room. "Why don't you message him asking to let you explain."

Jeremy didn't need to. His phone pinged and he reached over to grab it. It had a single message from Michael, asking him to meet him in the park tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! Got a chapter out just in time for it even though it's not Halloween themed. Bit shorter than the others, but that's okay
> 
> Chapter title - Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri


	6. Remember How It Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shook his head. "I don't know."
> 
> In Michael's mind, if someone just stops talking to you out of nowhere, something was wrong. Aren't friends supposed to make sure each other is alright? Was Michael in the wrong for wanting Jeremy to just show that he cared for once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Michael drove home, not caring about speed limits. If he didn't get home soon, he would be extremely tempted to run off the bridge. His knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel.

He couldn't believe it. It had been him that whole time? Michael had never been so angry in his life. He took his foot off the accelerator when he realized he was pushing 70 in a 55. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He pulled into the driveway of his house. He barely remembered to turn the car off before he was slamming the door and marching up the porch steps. He slammed the front door shut and threw his keys to the ground. He'd pick them up later.

He stormed over to the couch and picked up one of the throw pillows. He stopped, looking at the poor pillow crushed between his hands. What was he planning on doing? Ripping it? Throwing it?

He had no idea how to cope with his anger, he'd always just repressed it and got high later. But Eric had kept his no smoking rule from college. The last time he touched a blunt was halfway through sophomore year in college.

He groaned and threw the pillow onto the floor. He sat on the couch and put his face in his hands. He inhaled deeply, letting his hands grip and tug at his hair.

A door opened, and Eric called out to Michael. "You okay, dude?"

"It was him," was all Michael said. Eric walked over and sat next to him. "It was him."

"Him?" Eric raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

"Yeah." Michael ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I didn't see it."

He didn't know what to do. This was what he wanted, right? He wanted Jeremy to make the first move. But not like that. Not catfishing him.

Michael had been sure Jeremy had forgotten about him. Michael sure tried to forget about him as much as he hated to admit it.

He could block him. He should block him.

But that wouldn't be fair. He hadn't given Jeremy the chance to explain himself. He just went off on him.

Michael scoffed. What could he explain? That he broke his promise to never leave him again? That they would be best friends forever? Why he decided to ignore him without the help of a hologram?

"Dude," Eric said, prying Michael's fingers away from his face. "You're going to tear your eyes out if you keep doing that."

Michael blinked. He hadn't realized he was rubbing his eyes that hard. Stars and black spots danced in his eyes. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes again--carefully this time.

"I just. . ." He sighed. "What do I do?"

"You don't have to do anything," Eric told him. Michael knew Eric wasn't the best with emotional things, but he was trying his best. "You could just pretend it never happened."

"I could," Michael agreed. He put his glasses back on. "But that wouldn't be fair."

"Fair?" Eric echoed, giving him a weird look. He crossed his arms. "From what I've heard from you, he doesn't deserve 'fair'."

Michael shrugged. He should at least hear him out before blocking him or whatever he decided to do. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pulling up his Twitter DMs.

**@michaelsbathroom: meet me at the park tomorrow**

Michael woke up around 9 AM the next day. He just threw on yesterday's jeans with a maroon graphic t-shirt. He put on his glasses and grabbed his phone. Jeremy hadn't responded to his message yet. Either he was still sleeping or he was just ignoring it.

Or he was at work.

Considering Michael had sent it at noon on Saturday, he had his doubts about that last one. Jeremy had plenty of time to reply.

Michael did give him the benefit of the doubt, however, as yesterday had been stressful on both of them.

He figured he would go to the park an hour early so he could work on the project he and Joey had planned. He'd leave at 10:30.

That gave Michael plenty of time to shower and do his daily routine. He decided to let his hair air dry. He didn't feel like pulling out the hairdryer.

He passed Eric's room on the way to the kitchen. Taking a quick look, Michael saw that he wasn't there. He probably had an early shift at his job.

At least Michael wasn't making breakfast for two. He wouldn't have to worry about whether Eric would like it or not.

Michael had just started learning how to cook and was still getting the hang of everything. In college, Michael never had to actually cook anything besides sticking something in the microwave. He wanted to change that.

So far nearly every dish he made had been inedible.

But he was learning. He could make pancakes without burning down the house, so that's what he decided on.

He hummed along to a Bob Marley playlist on his phone, bopping his head to the beat. He poured the batter onto the pan and let it cook. When the song ended, he flipped the pancake over.

He wondered if he should try flipping the pan and catching it. It looked easy on TV.

When the pancakes were done, he put the extras in the fridge in case Eric wanted some when he came home for lunch.

Michael sat at the island and happily munched on his breakfast. He paused his playlist and chose another one called "chill vibes".

He lifted his fork to his mouth and froze. It was already 10:20. Shit. He hurriedly finished his pancakes and put the dishes in the sink. He'd do them when he got back. Or Eric would. Whoever got home first.

He threw on his shoes and grabbed his notebook and a pen and pencil. Remembering that his keys were on the floor, he bent down and snatched them up. Soon, he was out the door and in his car.

He really wasn't looking forward to this. He could back out if he wanted to. Ghost Jeremy like Jeremy ghosted him.

But that small voice in his head scolded him for even thinking that.

So he pulled out of the driveway and made his way to the park. He didn't need to take his car, the park was only five minutes away. But he needed time to prepare himself for whatever Jeremy had to say.

When he got there, he locked the car and made his way over to a bench by the pond. He opened his notebook and turned to the most recent page. It was filled with more scribbles than words.

Joey wanted to be a songwriter, so Michael proposed that they try writing their own songs. So they found an empty notebook and began brainstorming. Every time one of them wrote a lyric, they would give the notebook to the other person to look over.

Hence why there were so many scribbles. They couldn't figure out the right way to word the chorus. They had the first part, but it felt like it was missing something.

The working title at the moment was The Vagabond.

_The promise of what?_

Food? Music? Sleep? Money?

Whiskey?

Michael blinked.

_The promise of whiskey at the end of the day._

Hitting a small hint of inspiration, Michael found himself finishing the chorus and starting the third verse. He knew he should wait until Joey looked over the chorus, but he couldn't help himself. If he didn't write it down now, he would forget it later.

He was finishing up a line when a shadow moved over him.

"What're you working on?" Jeremy asked.

Michael glanced up. "Something." He looked Jeremy up and down. He had a thin beige jacket with a white shirt underneath with a matching beige bag strewn across his chest.

Jeremy put his hands in his pockets. "What is it?"

Michael closed the notebook. "Only my friends can see it."

Jeremy took a step back.

Michael shut his eyes. Maybe that was too far.

Jeremy sat on the bench. He tug the tops of his shoes into the dirt. He was hunched over. "Why did you ask me here?"

Michael sighed. "So you can explain yourself. I shouldn't have shouted at you." He wasn't apologizing, oh no. He had every right to be mad for what he did.

Jeremy squirmed under Michael's stare. "Right." He said nothing for a while. "How was I supposed to know that you wanted me to come to you? You just stopped texting after a while."

Michael blinked. Okay, that was bad on his end. He'd admit that. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of an answer. He shook his head. "I don't know."

In Michael's mind, if someone just stops talking to you out of nowhere, something was wrong. Aren't friends supposed to make sure each other is alright? Was Michael in the wrong for wanting Jeremy to just show that he cared for once?

Michael was going to voice these thoughts but Jeremy spoke.

"I was busy," Jeremy's eyes were trained on the ground, "with a lot of stuff."

"Like what? Partying? Going on dates?" Michael winced. He shouldn't have brought Christine into this.

"I was dealing with my own mental health, Michael," Jeremy snapped. "You weren't the only one that felt like utter shit during that time."

Michael looked away.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Jeremy continued. "I know that doesn't make up for everything, but I just needed to say that. I'm sorry, but how was I supposed to know that pill would purposefully block you out? How was I supposed to know that it would whisper abusive things into my mind day in and day out?"

Jeremy's voice grew louder. Michael just let him vent. He knew he needed to.

"And then I blo- it upgraded." Jeremy's shoulders went tense. He seemed to not want to talk anymore, but Michael still had his thoughts.

"No offense, Jeremy, but that doesn't explain why you willingly let me leave you afterwards."

Jeremy sniffed. Then nodded. "You're right. It doesn't. I should've gone to you. But I just. . . You wouldn't have understood. You don't know what it was like. Being told how terrible you are every time you do something wrong."

Michael wanted to prove Jeremy wrong right then and there. Of course Michael knew how that felt. And while it was his own mind and not a Japanese virus, it couldn't have been too far off. Hell, his mind still told him those things. Albeit it was a lot less now that he had access to a therapist.

Michael wanted to talk about so much more, but one look at Jeremy held him back. Jeremy looked on the verge of tears. Michael bit his lip and looked around the park. For a weekend, there wasn't a lot of people there.

"Jeremy," Michael said. Jeremy looked up. "I won't force you to talk about everything. Not yet at least. So. . . Why don't you come over to my house? Get your mind off things."

Jeremy stared at Michael with what Michael guessed was surprise. "Really?" he asked. "After everything I've done, you'd willingly have me around?"

"I asked you here, didn't I? I'd say that's pretty willing." Michael coughed. "Did you walk or drive?"

"I walked."

Michael nodded and stood up. "C'mon then."

The ride was silent. Michael wouldn't say it was awkward, but it definitely wasn't comfortable. Luckily the ride didn't last long. Soon the two got to Michael's house.

Michael unlocked the front door and let Jeremy enter first. Michael slipped his shoes off and set them next to Jeremy's.

Michael gave Jeremy a short tour of the house, showing him the kitchen, bathroom, and his room. They went to the living room.

"So. . ." Jeremy looked around the room. "What now?"

Michael shrugged. "We could play video games."

Jeremy nodded. "Okay."

Michael walked over to the many stacks of games he had and searched for a multiplayer one. Jeremy took a seat on the couch, setting his bag next to him. Michael carefully removed a game from one of the piles and held it above his head. It was Rocket League.

"It might not be Apocalypse of the Damned," Michael said, standing up, "but it's multiplayer." He handed Jeremy the player two controller. Michael started up the PS4 and put in the game. He joined Jeremy on the couch.

Michael showed Jeremy the basic moves and decided to let him figure the rest out. The match started and they were on opposite teams. Jeremy was getting used to the controllers, just letting his car spin around.

"Jeremy, what are you doing?" Michael asked, scoring the first point.

Jeremy's face turned red. "Shut up, I'm an Xbox guy."

Michael snorted and scored another point. Jeremy groaned.

Once Jeremy finally got his car under control, the match was almost over. Michael's team was the obvious winner. Jeremy pouted and demanded a rematch. Michael complied.

This time, Michael actually had to try to win. Jeremy had already gotten the first few points.

Witty banter between them started, and if he wanted to, Michael could pretend they were back in high school playing Mario Kart with a joint in front of them.

"Pay attention, Michael," Jeremy said, zooming passed Michael's car and stealing the ball. Michael snapped out of his memory.

"Get ready to eat my dust, Heere," Michael said back. He snatched the ball away. Jeremy whined.

Time seemed to slip passed them. Michael hadn't realized it was noon until he heard the front door open. He paused the game and looked over his shoulder to see Eric walk into the house.

"Hey, Michael," he said. Jeremy looked over Michael's head. "Who's that?" Eric set his work bag on the kitchen counter.

Michael looked between the two. "Uh. This is Jeremy. Jeremy, this is my roommate Eric."

Eric stopped his movements. His eyes narrowed at Jeremy. Jeremy shrunk back. "You're Jeremy?"

"Yes?"

Eric huffed and turned around, looking through the fridge.

Jeremy looked at Michael. "What was that about?"

Michael sighed. "I might have told him about you. The bad parts specifically."

"Oh."

Michael unpaused the game when Eric left. The banter and jokes between them stopped. Jeremy put his controller down when the match was over.

"I think I should go," he said, standing up.

Michael swallowed. "Oh. Yeah, I guess. Do you need a ride?"

Jeremy quickly shook his head. "I'm okay."

"Right."

Jeremy nodded in goodbye and grabbed his shoes, not even stopping to put them on before slipping out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!! I'm very much alive, school is just kicking my ass. AP classes have started prepping for the exams, the ACT is coming up, and my EMT class has started getting harder. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this story!
> 
> Chapter title - Little Wonders by Rob Thomas


	7. Swallow Your Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took him a few minutes and half of the card, but he finally got it. He turned around to tell Michael, but stopped. He stared at his feet, looking at the growing pile of ducks.
> 
> "Michael, what the hell?"
> 
> Michael glanced up from the machine. "I told you, I'm getting every single duck."
> 
> "The only thing you're getting is an empty bank account."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Jeremy sighed and ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He should really get that cut. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had just gotten to work a few hours ago and already his head hurt. He couldn't wait until lunch. His job was only ten minutes away from home, so he didn't have to worry about bringing a lunch every day.

He looked at the clock next to his computer. Thirty minutes until then. He could last.

He kept his eyes shut for a while longer. This wasn't the worst headache ever, but it was in the top ten.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the document on the computer screen. He began typing, fixing any small mistake this author had missed.

Sometimes his days at work were slow and he didn't have much to edit. Other days, he was given a book that the author wanted to self publish and he had to keep himself from hitting his head against the screen at how many mistakes he found on the first page. Today was a slow day.

He sighed and resumed his work.

When he finished editing the next few chapters, he looked at his clock and decided to take his lunch break early. He grabbed his keys and jacket and headed out of the building. Even though it was the middle of summer, the weather was unpredictable.

He drove home pretty fast as the traffic wasn't bad considering it was the middle of the lunch rush for most places.

He got to the apartment only to find the door already unlocked. He stepped inside and called out, "Hello?" He hung up his jacket.

He hoped he hadn't just walked into a break-in.

Christine walked through the kitchen, holding a thick book. Jeremy figured it must be the script she's been working through. Christine stopped and smiled. "Hi, Jeremy!"

"Hey," Jeremy replied, shutting the door behind him. "Might want to lock the door next time, nearly had a heart attack."

"Oh, sorry," Christine set the script down on the island, "must've slipped my mind. You don't usually get here this early."

Jeremy shrugged. "It's chi- it's cool." He sighed and moved to the fridge. He searched through it, pulling out some apple jelly. He closed the fridge and reached up to grab the bread. He spread the jelly on a slice of bread before going to grab the peanut butter.

Christine pulled him out a chair and he sat down, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"How's your day so far?" Christine asked, hugging her script to her chest.

"Slow," Jeremy replied, setting his sandwich down on the napkin he grabbed.

Christine furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, maybe after work we could go to the mall. That would cheer you up, right?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I guess. Sounds fun."

Christine grinned. "You could bring Michael."

Jeremy blinked, remembering their last encounter. He shook his head. "I don't think he wants to see me."

Christine frowned. "At least ask him."

"Sure."

Christine jumped off of her chair. "I have to go to rehearsal right now. I think I'll be back around 4:30? Closer to 5 maybe."

Jeremy nodded and watched Christine skip towards the door. "Bye, Jeremy!" she called out, letting the door close behind her. Jeremy sighed. There was no way Michael would go. They haven't spoken in a week. Not since that talk in the park.

Jeremy pulled out his phone anyways, and tapped on Twitter.

**@JerJer: Christine wants to know if you want to come with us to the mall today**

**@JerJer: around 5**

He pocketed his phone and stood up. He quickly finished his sandwich and grabbed his keys. Time to go back to work.

Jeremy got home at right at 5. His boss asked him to stay a bit later than normal to help deliver printed copies of books upstairs to the publishers. Normally Jeremy would have declined as that wasn't his job, but his boss mentioned overtime pay so he agreed.

When he entered the apartment, he saw Rich sitting on the couch in the living room, books spread everywhere.

"You okay, Rich?" Jeremy asked, hanging up his jacket.

"Finals," Rich muttered, massaging his temples. "Finals, man." He went back to scribbling on his papers.

Jeremy sucked in a breath. That's right, Rich was taking a summer class to get ahead. "That's rough, buddy. Is Christine back yet?"

As if he summoned her, Christine walked through the front door.

"There she is," Rich said, pointing the eraser end of his pencil at her.

She beamed at the sight of both of the boys. "Hello!" She walked into her bedroom.

Jeremy pulled out his phone and checked Twitter.

**@michaelsbathroom: sure i guess. Meet you there**

Jeremy looked up when Christine coughed.

"Let's go, Jer,"

The two said goodbye to Rich, whose only sign of reply was a grunt and crumpling paper. They decided to use Christine's car. Christine played her Broadway playlist. Even though it was called Broadway, it wasn't limited to just shows on there.

Christine hummed along to Partner In Crime, nodding her head to the beat.

It took them thirty minutes to get to the mall as rush hour was getting worse. They got out of the car and Christine lead him through the doors.

"Did he say where he was gonna be?" she asked, turning around to walk backwards. She held her hands behind her back.

Jeremy shook his head. "No. I could tell him to meet us at the food court." As if on cue, his stomach rumbled.

Christine smiled and nodded. When the two got to the food court, Jeremy made a beeline for the Dairy Queen part. He ordered a plain hamburger and a side of cheese curds. He brought his food back to the table Christine picked out. He offered her a cheese curd, which she happily took.

"So," Christine said. "I do have a show at 7, so that's when we'll have to leave. It's our first one, too."

Jeremy nodded. "You'll have to see if you can get me tickets."

Christine stuck her tongue out. "It's not Broadway, tickets are cheap."

Jeremy bit into his hamburger while Christine talked about the show. She was in the middle of a funny story about someone accidentally wearing their mic belt home the day before when she shouted, "Michael!"

She stood up from her chair and ran over to Michael. Jeremy looked up from his basket of food. Christine bounced on the balls of her feet, grinning. She pulled Michael over to their table.

"Gosh, I haven't seen you in forever," she said, sitting back down. "How have you been?"

Michael shrugged, looking mildly uncomfortable. "I've been okay." He pushed his glasses up. "I was actually at Spencer's before I came over here."

Jeremy leaned forward a bit. "You still have your hookup there?"

Michael shook his head, not meeting Jeremy's eyes. "He, uh, actually quit a few years ago."

"Oh."

Christine, seeming to sense the tension between them, cleared her throat. "Well, let's go shopping. That's why we're here, after all." She stood and grabbed them both by their hands, dragging them behind her. Jeremy looked back at his abandoned food.

She took them to various stores, stopping to only look rather than buy anything. Jeremy did make a purchase, in Hot Topic, though. He was collecting Mario figures and they had the last one he needed. It was King Boo.

Jeremy held the small box in his hands, not bothering with a bag.

He kept sneaking glances at Michael, trying to figure out what to say.

Christine looked over her shoulder at the two, pausing her search for a cute dress. She pouted and thought of an idea. "You know, you can go do your own thing."

"I thought this was a group thing?" Jeremy said, shifting from foot to foot.

"Well," Christine said, "I do have to do some personal shopping. It might be best."

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows. "Personal?"

Christine smiled. "Oh, you know. Make-up, might stop at Victoria's Secret."

Jeremy's eyes widened, and he coughed into his fist, face going bright red. "Yeah, okay." He spun around and dragged Michael out of whatever clothes store they were in. "Meet you at the car, Chrissy."

Christine's grin widened. Her plan worked. Maybe.

Jeremy speed-walked away from that area. His face hadn't gone back to its normal color. Michael eventually pulled his arm back and made Jeremy stop.

"Dude, you're going to break my shoes," Michael said. He sighed. "What now?"

Jeremy looked around, shrugging. There wasn't a lot they could do aside from walk and browse. Jeremy couldn't think of anything he wanted to buy.

His eyes landed on a new part of the mall. Was it new? It had been so long since he'd been there. "There's an arcade," he pointed to it, "we could try that out."

"Better than waiting for Christine to get her. . . Things."

Jeremy felt the blush creeping back up his face. The two walked into the arcade. It wasn't big, there were only a few things. There were multiple claw machines, including one with just ducks. The others were a Rick and Morty themed one, one with huge plastic balls, and one of those hard ones with phones and expensive things that nobody seemed to win. There was a racing game, and an air hockey game.

Jeremy walked up to a machine that stood by the entrance. He pressed a button and it started walking him through on how to use it and the games. Apparently you needed a card and not tokens. Jeremy frowned. $20 for 20 games?

He guessed it couldn't be that bad, one dollar per game was pretty good. He chose that amount just to start with. If they needed or wanted more, they could get some later.

He grabbed the card the machine spit out and walked over to Michael, who was checking out the duck machine.

"Hey-"

"I'm going to get every single duck," Michael said, staring intensely at the small toys. "Especially that one." He pointed at a creeper looking one.

"Aw man," Jeremy said on impulse. Michael looked at him, surprised.

"So we back in the mine," Michael continued.

Jeremy blinked. "Anyways, this has our games on it. There's twenty so that's ten each. You could go get your own card, though."

Michael snatched the card from Jeremy's hand and swiped on the claw machine.

Jeremy took the card back and watched as Michael attempted to get the duck. Jeremy glanced down at the stickers on the machine. It said "play until you win". Huh. He placed the card down next to Michael's hand and walked back to the machine.

He decided to just put ten dollars on that one. He didn't want to use up all his money.

Letting Michael do his thing, he wandered over to the Rick and Morty machine. It just had Rick, Morty, and Mr. Meeseeks. Jeremy wanted one. He swiped the card and began the game.

It took him a few minutes and half of the card, but he finally got it. He turned around to tell Michael, but stopped. He stared at his feet, looking at the growing pile of ducks.

"Michael, what the hell?"

Michael glanced up from the machine. "I told you, I'm getting every single duck."

"The only thing you're getting is an empty bank account." Jeremy walked over to him. He really should have gotten a bag from Hot Topic. He could go ask. He should. He set his Mr. Meeseeks plushie next to Michael's ducks and left the arcade, heading for the nearest store. He walked up to the register and asked for a bag.

The worker gave him a strange look but handed one over anyway. Jeremy got back to the arcade and found that the pile had grown bigger. He noticed the creeper duck wasn't in it. He also noticed that Michael was getting frustrated. Jeremy sighed and knelt down to put the ducks in the bag.

"Let me try," Jeremy said, moving Michael out of the way when he got another purple duck. He swiped his card and carefully matched the claw with the duck. He made sure it stopped swinging before hitting the down button. Michael quietly cheered when it got picked up.

Michael bent down to grab it from the slot when Jeremy stopped him.

"What're you doing?"

Confused, Michael said, "Getting my duck?"

Deciding to have some fun, Jeremy replied, "Your duck? I used my card and won it."

Michael sputtered out sounds. "But, Jeremy," he whined. Jeremy had to hold back his snicker. The look on Michael's face was priceless.

Jeremy snatched the duck out of Michael's hands. "What's your offer for it?"

"What?" Michael looked around. "I'll give you any duck of your choice."

Jeremy stroked his chin, acting like he was considering it. He glanced around the arcade."Beat me in a game of air hockey, and we'll see."

Michael grumbled under his breath and took his bag of ducks over to the air hockey table. He swiped his card and the table turned on. Not even letting Jeremy get a good hold on his paddle, Michael smacked the puck into Jeremy's slot.

Jeremy stared, mouth open and eyes wide. "I wasn't ready."

"You shouldn't have stolen my duck."

Jeremy put the puck on the table. If that's how he wanted to play it. He sent the puck back, making sure to purposefully avoid the slot.

His arm grew tired as the game went on. He was ahead by three points, and Michael looked pretty upset.

"How about this," Jeremy said, "if we tie I'll give it to you."

Michael's frown deepened and his actions got more aggressive. Jeremy lost count of how many times Michael had hit the puck off the table.

Michael eventually won the game, throwing his hands up and yelling.

"Rematch?" Jeremy suggested, smirking.

Michael dropped the paddle. "Give me my duck, Jer."

They both stopped. They stared at each other.

Michael cleared his throat. "Emy. Jeremy."

Jeremy nodded and tossed Michael's duck to him. He swallowed. He grabbed his card.

"We, uh, we still have some games on the cards."

Michael looked at his hand. "I think I have enough ducks."

"I'll get some then. Maybe we could pretend they're Pokemon and trade 'em."

"Maybe."

Between the two of them, there were only ten games left so Jeremy only got ten ducks compared to Michael's nearly thirty. Apparently while Jeremy was gone, Michael added more games to his card.

They put the card back into the machine, and Jeremy texted Christine, saying they'd be at the food court when she was done. She just sent a thumbs up.

Michael and Jeremy sat at a high table and poured out their ducks. They nearly fell off the table. They made sure to keep them separated. They both put their favorite ones away so the other wouldn't be tempted to try and trade.

Michael had put away just a few as most of the ones he had were duplicates. He put away a purple unicorn, a pink unicorn, a police one, the creeper, one that looked like a basketball, and a green owl.

Jeremy put away only three; a pirate, ninja, and a princess. He didn't particularly care about the others. They looked the same, just with different colors.

Jeremy looked over Michael's collection. There weren't many that caught his attention. He picked out one that was black with rainbow polka dots, a regular red one, and one that looked like a bear. He put the ducks away.

Michael took his time looking at Jeremy's sad pile. He ended up just grabbing three random ones and seemed happy. Jeremy scooped up his remaining ducks and put them away. Michael gotten him a bag.

His Mr. Meeseeks plushie sat on his lap. Jeremy had to keep a hold on it so it wouldn't fall over.

Christine skipped up to their table with two bags in her hands. One was from what Jeremy assumed was a make-up store, and the other was indeed Victoria's Secret.

Jeremy avoided looking at that bag.

"You guys ready to go?" she asked.

Jeremy looked at Michael, who looked at his phone. "Yeah," Michael said, "I have to do some things tonight."

Christine nodded and waited for them to get up, rocking back and forth on her heels. She smiled when they did. She walked a bit in front of them and began telling Michael about her performance.

When they got to the parking lot, Christine hugged Michael goodbye, saying how good it was to see him. He said it back. Jeremy watched Michael go to his car.

Jeremy climbed into the passenger seat and rested his bag and plushie on his lap.

"Did you and Michael have fun?" Christine asked, sounding somewhat like a mother.

Jeremy looked out the window and watched Michael's car drive away. "Yeah," he said, "we did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get off of spring break only to find out that my state's governor has shut down all schools for two more weeks. Fun. Hopefully y'all are staying safe
> 
> Chapter title - Lean On Me by Bill Withers


	8. Wake Me From This Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked down at his hands. The lines ended at his wrists. With the way they faded, they looked like normal veins. Normal blue veins. Jeremy could pass them off as birthmarks as far as his back was concerned. Or stretch marks. Weird stretch marks.
> 
> Jeremy sighed. Sure. Until you looked closer and could see the faint blue and green tints in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated

Jeremy gasped for breath as he sat up. His chest heaved up and down as he panted. His eyes scanned the dark room. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for, or why. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

He sobbed into his hand, so he didn't wake Rich. He let the tears flow freely from his eyes, though he mentally kicked himself. It's been how many years? 6 years since the SQUIP, and he still had nightmares. He cursed at himself.

He fumbled for his phone, barely registering what he was doing. He didn't even see what contact he was clicking. He just heard it ring.

His eyes widened when he realized who he was calling. Before he could hang up, Michael answered.

"Hello?" he grumbled into the speaker. Jeremy held his breath. His lips quivered. "Who is this? If you don't answer, I'm calling the cops."

"W-wait," Jeremy gasped out. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

"Jeremy? How did you get my number?"

Jeremy exhaled a shaky sigh. "I. . . I never got rid of it."

Michael didn't answer for a while.

"You kept it?" He sounded surprised.

Jeremy nodded, knowing full well that Michael couldn't see him. "I, I know we're not technically friends," he said after a while, his voice scratchy and soft. "But could you come over?"

"You do know that's not just a walk down the block, right?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Of course I know that. Just. . . Please? I'll send you the address."

Michael sighed, and was quiet. A minute passed. "Yeah, sure." He hung up.

Jeremy stared at his phone that know showed Michael's contact. He let the phone turn off by itself as he let everything sink in.

He just invited Michael over. Because of a stupid nightmare. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the tangles. What was his problem? Did he think that hanging out for a grand total of twice gave him the right to have him come over?

He grumbled and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He left the room to change in case Rich woke up. He went into the bathroom and flicked on the light before closing the door.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and dropped his shirt. He looked like a mess. His hair stuck out everywhere, his eyes were rimmed red. His eyes traveled to his bare chest, his arms. Dark, thin lines spread across his pale skin.

He shivered as faint phantom pains coursed through his back. He stood up straighter. He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut when he realized what he did. He couldn't bring himself to slouch, though.

He looked down at his hands. The lines ended at his wrists. With the way they faded, they looked like normal veins. Normal blue veins. Jeremy could pass them off as birthmarks as far as his back was concerned. Or stretch marks. Weird stretch marks.

Jeremy sighed. Sure. Until you looked closer and could see the faint blue and green tints in them. A random onlooker wouldn't even glance at them. But Jeremy was forced to look at them every day.

Jeremy thought of Rich, how he didn't have that pleasure. He knew how deep Rich's scars ran. Not just from the fire. Rich hardly wore anything showing his arms, a drastic contrast compared to the muscle tanks he adored.

From the short glimpses he's gotten from Rich changing, Jeremy noticed how much darker and bluer his are than his own.

Jeremy took a deep breath and avoided the mirror, choosing to bend over to slip on the shirt and jeans. He was buttoning his pants as he sent Michael his address.

He decided to wait outside for Michael. He didn't want Michael to knock at the door and wake up everyone. A tired Rich was hell enough, but with everyone else mad at being woken up was horrid.

He took a seat on one of the chairs on their porch. He fiddled with his phone, looking for a mind-numbing game to play. He settled on Sonic Dash. Call him basic, but there wasn't anything wrong with a good Sonic game once in a while.

His thumb swiped across the screen, making Sonic move places. He was close to his high score. He silently cheered when it passed. Now he just had to keep it up. That was always the hardest part.

There was a light coming close to him. Jeremy looked up from his phone and found Michael making his way over to him. Jeremy stood up, pocketing his phone.

"Hi," he said. "I'm sorry for dragging you here."

Michael turned off his light. "I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't want to."

Jeremy nodded. "I would invite you inside, but everyone's asleep." Michael looked to the ground and kicked the dirt. Jeremy rubbed his arms. "There's a park nearby."

Michael seemed to be lost in thought, but nodded anyway. Jeremy led him out of the apartment complex. The park was only five minutes away, so Jeremy didn't feel like wasting the gas. The walk was silent. It wasn't the good silence between two friends. It was like the silence when Michael dropped an old nickname at the arcade. It didn't feel good.

Jeremy wanted to break it, to say something. But what? They were in the middle of the sidewalk, there was nothing to distract them from their problems.

Jeremy shivered, moving his hands to keep his arms warm. Why did September have to be so cold at night?

He heard shuffling, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Michael thrust something in his direction. Jeremy stopped and turned. Michael was holding out his sweatshirt.

Jeremy blinked, mouth parting in surprise.

"Take it before I change my mind," Michael said, moving his face away from Jeremy.

Jeremy reached out to grab the clothing. He slipped it over his head and instantly felt warm. He was too busy looking at the sweatshirt to realize that Michael had started walking again. He jogged to keep up.

"Thanks," Jeremy breathed out. He kept his hands in the pockets. Michael grunted in response.

The two got to the empty park and went over to the swings. They sat down, and Jeremy began pushing himself with his legs. He was too tall to swing properly.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground.

"What was it about?" Michael asked.

"Huh?" Jeremy's head snapped up.

"The nightmare."

"How'd you know I had a nightmare?"

Michael sighed. "Why else would you call me in the middle of the night?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So, what happened?"

Jeremy swallowed. Should he bring it up? It was still a sore subject for everyone. He inhaled. If he wasn't honest now, what was the point of trying to rekindle the friendship? It would just be based on lies.

"The SQUIP."

Michael sucked in a breath. Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut. "But what happened? Jeremy, the only way to get through trauma is to talk about it."

"Why do you even care?" Jeremy spat. He gripped the chains on the swing. "You don't even know what is was like."

"No, I don't know. Because you never told me anything."

Jeremy shot out of the swing. "Because I needed to get a hold on my health, Michael!"

Michael stood up, crossing his arms. "Looks like you have a better grip on it now."

Jeremy groaned. "You said it yourself, we're not friends. I don't have to tell you anything!"

Michael ran a hand over his face. "Then why am I here?" Jeremy paused, then shrugged. He directed his eyes at the ground. He didn't want to meet Michael's accusing stare. "Maybe I should leave then. Doesn't seem like you want me here anyway."

"Maybe you should."

Michael stared at Jeremy, glare pouring into Jeremy's eyes. Jeremy didn't back down. He was tired of being intimidated by everything. Michael spun around and begun to walk away.

Jeremy sunk back down into the swing. He put his face in his hands as tears spilled for the second time that night. What had he done? He ruined everything. He shattered all the progress they had been making.

Michael was starting to warm up to him again, and Jeremy threw that all away.

He felt his body begin to shake. Whimpers slipped passed his lips. He tried to use the cold chains to ground himself, but he couldn't bring himself to remove his hands from his face.

He felt the swing beneath him go numb. His legs felt like jelly. He found himself slouching, but not even the phantom shocks could get him upright. He just needed to slouch.

On impulse, he found himself humming a tune. He wasn't sure what song it was, but he didn't stop it. He didn't want to have a panic attack in the middle of a park in the cold.

He was in the middle of the chorus when he heard footsteps behind him.

"You have a nice voice," Michael said, moving so that he knelt in front of Jeremy.

"What, what're you doing here?" Jeremy asked. "I thought you left."

"I shouldn't have gotten mad. That wasn't fair to you." Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "And I don't remember the way back."

Jeremy let out a shaky laugh. "We should go. I'm freezing."

Michael cracked a smile. "You're cold? I'm the one without a sweatshirt."

"You shouldn't have given it up."

Michael lightly punched Jeremy's shoulder. "Whatever, nerd. Let's go."

Jeremy nodded. He stood up, putting his still shaking hands into the sweatshirt's pockets. As he and Michael walked, they made small talk. It wasn't about anything important, it mainly consisted of how their jobs were and the fun bits of college life.

It gave Jeremy hope. Hope that one day they could return to how they used to be. Not now, maybe not for a few years. But maybe someday.

He sneaked a glance at Michael's grinning face as Jeremy cracked a joke, seeing how the street lights made it even brighter.

Yeah. Someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Physical school has been cancelled for the rest of the year so I technically won't have to leave my house until September. Online school is kicking my ass though, I've never done worse in my life. I'm just not built for online school
> 
> I'm currently working on a Viktuuri fic so if you like Yuri On Ice and mafia AUs stay tuned
> 
> Chapter title - Nightmare by Set It Off

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning on uploading my deh fic first but oh well. I want to at least get five chapters for that one done before then
> 
> Songs in this chapter - Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye and Go Radio's cover of Rolling In The Deep


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